64. Chapter Sixty-Four
Chapter Sixty-Four
Mateo
T oday is the day. The one I’ve waited my entire adult life for.
A thrill runs through me.
“We’re getting married,” I murmur, more to myself than to Mari, as if I need the words to remind me that this is real.
I lift her hand from where it rests on my thigh, my fingers curling around hers as I bring it to my lips. The back of her hand is warm beneath my kiss, and my thumb grazes over my grandmother’s engagement ring, her ring now. It looks so right on her delicate finger, as if it was always meant to be there, waiting all these years for her.
“I can’t wait to be your wife,” Mari whispers.
“That makes two of us.”
She’s going to be mine.
Irrefutably, undeniably mine.
Nothing and no one will ever tear us apart.
I glance over at her, and she’s already watching me, her eyes bright with anticipation, with love.
The sight of her steals my breath. She wears a simple cream-colored dress she had packed, something casual, not meant for a wedding, yet it’s perfect. The soft fabric skims over her curves, complementing the warmth of her tanned skin. A white lace scarf is draped over her shoulders, an effortless touch that makes the outfit look almost bridal.
I, on the other hand, am more underdressed than I’d like. I have no suits here in Tuscany. At least my slacks and button-down are decent enough for the occasion. But none of that matters, not really.
We drive through the village, and the little stone church comes into view at the end of the road, nestled among rolling green hills.
“Oh, it’s beautiful,” Mari breathes, squeezing my hand.
“Father Roberto should be there. I called him last night.”
She turns to me, her nose scrunching in that way I love. “When did you do that?”
“When you were waiting for me on the balcony.”
Those ten minutes had been a whirlwind. The moment I made the decision to marry her today, I needed to make it happen fast.
The usual two-week waiting period wasn’t an option. But Uberto had no trouble securing all the documentation, tweaking the dates and fabricating proof of our required pre-marital counseling session with Father Joseph. Once that was done, all I needed was a priest to make it official.
“And you’ve got our marriage license with you?” she asks, a teasing lilt in her voice.
I chuckle. “It’s a little late to remind me now, isn’t it, dolce mia ?”
I tap the pocket of my shirt, where the license is safely tucked away.
She rewards me with one of her dazzling smiles, the kind that makes my heart do something ridiculous in my chest.
God, I’m the lucky bastard who gets to see this smile for the rest of my life.
I slow the car as we pull into the church’s small, gravel parking lot, the ancient stones of the building standing tall against the blue horizon.
I step out, rounding the hood of the car, and hold out my hand to help Mari out. She clutches her bouquet of wildflowers and roses, the ones she picked from our garden, and places her hand in mine.
With my arm around her waist, we walk toward the open wooden doors. My pulse races, not from nerves, but from the overwhelming sense of rightness.
This is it.
She is it.
I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.
Mari looks up at me, her lips curving into that smile, the one that makes me forget everything else.
I glance inside the church. Father Roberto is already waiting, two strangers I’d asked him to find for us last night standing beside him, ready to bear witness to our union. The scene seems surreal, as if we’ve stepped out of time and into something that belongs only to us. It’s a moment that feels sacred, simple, and completely ours.
I pull Mari closer, and she lifts her face to mine. Without a second thought, I kiss her, as if to make sure this is real. When we finally break apart, her eyes are bright, her cheeks flushed.
“Are you ready?” I ask, my voice low, almost reverent.
She nods, beaming up at me.
I take the first step into the cool interior of the church, Mari’s hand firmly in mine.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
I freeze.
No!
Ring. Ring. Ring.
Not now!
The ringing stops, and a wave of relief floods me, but uneasiness lingers.
Only three people have this number. Tiero, Romeo, and Santino. The latter two only use it for emergencies while I’m away.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
I curse under my breath.
“You should take it,” Mari says, sensing the shift in my mood. Her brow furrows with concern.
I pull the sleek black phone from my pocket, my hand tight around it. I check the display.
“Santino,” I mutter more to myself than her.
A knot tightens in my stomach as the seconds tick by, my gut filling with dread as the phone continues to ring. I stab the answer button.
“Santino, what’s going on?” I demand without preamble.
Silence. Only his breathing can be heard.
Fuck. It’s bad. I can feel it.
Dread coils in my gut, thick and suffocating.
“Santino?” My voice sharpens. “Just tell me.”
A beat. Then…
“It’s your brother. He…” His voice is grim, clipped.
My stomach drops. “He what?”
“He got shot when we landed in Sicily.”
The world tilts on its axis.
“Mateo, he might not make it.”
Having heard, Mari lets out a strangled cry, clapping a hand over her mouth. Her wide, panicked eyes fly to mine, mirroring the shock hammering through me.
No.
“He’s in surgery,” Santino continues. “They’re doing everything they can.”
This can’t be happening.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
We’re hours away from Sicily.
My hands tighten around the phone, my knuckles turning white.
“Find me a helicopter or a private jet in Grosseto. We’ll be there within the hour. Call me with updates the second you get them.” I don’t wait for a response before ending the call.
Mari doesn’t say a word. She throws her arms around me, holding on tight. And God, I need it.
Because within seconds, my life has spun out of control.
Tiero has been shot.
He’s fighting for his life.
One of my worst nightmares has just become reality.
“I’m so sorry, mi amore .” Mari’s voice is full of aching sympathy. “Your brother is strong. If anyone can pull through this, it’s him. Especially with his love for Ella pulling him through. She’s with him, right? He found her?”
“I don’t know. I forgot to ask.”
I rake a hand through my hair, frustration and fear tangling in my chest.
“God, I hope she’s with him. That alone would give him reason to fight.”
What a cruel twist of fate it would be if he just got the love of his life back, only to be shot.
I let myself soak in Mari’s warmth for a few more precious seconds before pulling away and pulling her back toward the car.
“We need to get to Sicily. I’m sorry, dolcezza , but our wedding has to wait.”
She shakes her head firmly. “Of course. Your brother is the priority.” Her fingers tighten around mine. “Our wedding can wait until he’s fully recovered. I think you’d prefer for him to be there anyway.”
God, I love this woman.
Three agonizingly long hours later, we pull up at the hospital in Palermo. The moment the jet’s wheels touch the tarmac, reality comes crashing down around us. The world I pushed aside for just a few precious days is thrust back in my face.
We’re met by a wall of soldiers, ushering us straight into waiting cars. All morning I was floating in a bubble of bliss, thinking only of Mari, of the life we were about to start together. Now, that world seems impossibly far away.
Santino has been feeding me updates throughout the flight, but none of them brought relief. Tiero is still in surgery. I’m not sure if that’s a good sign or a terrible one.
Inside, I’m spiraling. My thoughts are a chaotic storm, but I force myself to breathe. To focus.
And I manage to, because Mari’s hand is still in mine, her touch the anchor keeping me steady. I squeeze it gently, her warmth seeping through the panic and grounding me.
Her presence calms me and keeps me from losing myself completely. She’s my tether, holding me back from the edge.
I take another slow breath, my eyes flicking to her face for the briefest moment. She’s watching me, concern etched into her features, but there’s strength in her gaze, strength I can lean on when I need it most.
The moment I step out of this car, I have to be the man they expect me to be. Strong. In control.
With Tiero incapacitated, I’m in charge now.
No weakness. No hesitation.
But for now, as the car rolls to a stop, I hold on to her hand just a little longer. Because with her by my side, even this nightmare is more bearable.
What’s coming will test me. I can feel it.